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amidstthemists · 2 years ago

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Bernard the elf tries faerie wine for the first time with a faerie. Now all he can do is try to not make a fool of himself by fawning over Gale, the faerie (his faerie), when all he really wants to do is see if she tastes as sweet as the wine.

~A mood board and an excerpt of my fic~

Gale rested her hand on Bernard’s knee in emphasis, reminding him, “You’re a faerie for tonight. That means you learn through experience, through feeling. Remember?”

“Yeah, yeah, I remember,” Bernard said with forced casualness when, in reality, all he could focus on was the weight of her hand on his knee.

Breathe, he had to remind himself. He almost forgot to breathe.

The faerie went on, not noticing his spiking heart rate (how could she not? He could have sworn his heart was beating so loudly that everyone at the party could hear), “You’ll have plenty of time to think later. Let’s just enjoy the party while we can.” She gave his knee a pat of finality before standing up, “Come on. Let’s get you some water. Since you still have your wits for the most part, we can indulge in some controlled flirting on the way there… if you are good.” She gave him a wink and tapped her own nose knowingly, “I think you’ll find flirting to be enjoyable with the faerie wine whispering in your ear.”

When she realized he wasn’t moving, only staring dumbly up at her like she was nothing short of an Angel (still had his wits indeed), she took hold of his hand and pulled him up to his feet (he was oddly impressed and slightly titillated from the seemingly effortless feat of strength on her part but that was beside the point).

“If I’m good?” It was only when his head started to spin that he realized he had forgotten to breathe completely.

Breathe, he reminded himself again. Breathe.

His nerves were suddenly so on edge, his muscles all clenching so hard that he might have started cutting off his own blood flow. His every sense felt assaulted… and all just from hearing the word ‘flirting’ come out of the faerie’s intolerable berry sweet lips (he had never tasted the lips himself but he had some theories at that point in the night) and feeling her darling, little hand pull him along.

“You know, like how if I was good today—which I was—you were going to tell me which you preferred more: cookies or kisses—“ Gale stopped their trek across the room for a moment as she downed the rest of the wine in her cup, before adding, “—which you should.” She shivered as the wine lit up in her veins.

Bernard watched with great intensity as a ruby drop of wine dripped down her chin, dislodged from her shiver after a valiant effort to cling to her bottom lip (coincidentally, he found himself wanting to do the same thing, but refrained). Instead, he swiped the side his finger up her chin to collect the drip before it stained her dress and then licked the drop from his finger like an elf possessed.

“How do you know if I’ve been good?” He asked her, noting the way her pupils bloomed just as the flavor from the drop of wine bloomed on his tongue. The burn the drop of wine offered was enough of a distraction that he didn’t have to question what he just did. His heart beat faster because it was a bold move for him, but there was a tickle of those butterflies inside his chest that moved even faster than his heart, telling him that this was a fun game and that she had said they could flirt, after all, so why should he worry?

There was something wild that shined in Gale’s eyes, then. Something that, on a regular day, might have put him on edge, but, this time, he recognized and felt in himself. She smiled and his heart flip flopped. Then she said, “That’s the trick, Bernard. You’re always good. You’re the best.”

Whatever intensity he had felt building deep inside him released at the praise, leaving him feeling soft and fuzzy inside. Serotonin bubbled up in his head so much from the kind words that he couldn’t help needing to ramble, “Aww—you really think so? That’s so nice. You’re so nice. Even when you don’t let things go, there’s still just something…” He trailed off when he realized, in delighted surprise, that she was good at playing so many games at once. He observed, “I suppose I have to tell you now, huh? That’s the real trick from you calling me the best.”

She grinned widely, her wings fluttering in excitable pleasure as she asked, “D’you like that?”

“You know, I did,” Bernard said with a laugh. He knew that being tricked would usually put him off, but the faerie wine brought a lighthearted amusement to it that made the whole thing seem too harmless to worry about. He took her by the hand and walked them through a swinging door to a side room where they could find things momentarily stored for the day’s events: dishes and cutlery, the bottles of faerie wine, spare cookies and frosting, extra snacks, juice and water.

While Gale emptied the rest of a bottle into her cup, Bernard got them both cups of water, observing with an amused chuckle, “Usually I like to stay far away from tricks but that completely tickled me.”

“Tricks always tickle more with faerie wine,”Gale grinned, clearly enjoying having someone to enjoy the art of trickery with. Her eyes sparkled in wonderful, dangerous mischief and she put down her cup of wine, as if preparing for something. Then she too innocently asked, “Imagine what it would feel like to be actually tickled right now?”

He put his arms out defensively, but it took no more than a single tap of one of her fingers to his side for him to scream as if she burned him, “I’d—AH!” He batted her hands away, finishing his sentence with a dry, “combust. Surely.” He shook his head when she started to laugh, but he couldn’t stop the smile that played at the corners of his mouth.

Bernard watched the faerie as her laughter eventually dwindled, chuckling to himself at his reaction, at the bizarreness of the situation, but, mostly because her mirth was beautiful and contagious. He remembered what they had been talking about only when his eyes lingered on her lips for too long and he found himself admitting, “Y’know, kissing is not usually a great motivator for me. Cookies are at least something that can sustain me while I have my coffee, but, right now, I have to admit that I’m finding kissing to be something I’m having a hard time getting off my mind while I couldn’t give a flying reindeer about cookies.”

Something shifted between them, then. It wasn’t a big shift. Really, it was only a change in awareness. But, it was the first time he had opened himself up to her and said something that could mean… something. It could have been the dim lights of the room, it could have been the faerie wine, it could have been a long time coming. He couldn’t be sure of much other than that he thought he just might want to kiss her if she let him—and for some reason that fact felt like it should have been a big deal, but at the moment it didn’t feel like a big deal at all.

Gale took his admission with stride, leaning against the counter and wondering in a dreamy, playful sort of way, “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could be sustained on kissing alone? A peck if feeling peckish. A light smooch for lunch. A grand open-mouthed devouring for dinner. A saucy little lick for a taste of dessert.”

When he moved closer to her, though, she straightened back up and daringly hooked her fingers to the bottom shirt, tugging him the rest of the way over to her as he said, “I think I’d like that very much.”

She leaned back into the counter, letting him cage her in. He had only just (finally) begun to nuzzle into her neck when he felt her stiffen against him. Then she was pushing at his chest and he was pulling his head back to see what was wrong. She stumbled through her words, faerie wine catching up with her enough to tangle her sentences with her conflicting emotions, “Wait—we can’t—I can’t—there are boundaries—oh, dear it’s hard to think straight around you on a good day.”

She groaningly threw her head back, frustrated with herself or the situation or him, he wasn’t sure. Bernard tried to pull away from her, afraid he had done something wrong, but the faerie’s fingers had a firm hold on his shirt. Confusion mixed with his worry, spiking his anxiety until his clarity blurred into strong, swirling emotions. Rejection, confusion, guilt, anxiety, feeling cornered, feeling lonely, feeling voracious, feeling pulled in a million directions. He felt everything so intensely and so loudly that he was practically deafened from everything else around him.

It was only when Gale’s hands found his face and she forced him to look into her eyes that he was able to follow what she was trying to tell him. “Listen, before you get lost in a spiral—no, don’t look at me like I cancelled Christmas. I am stopping this because I care.”

He stumbled over his words, worry coloring his tone as he desperately insisted, “I didn’t mean to push your boundaries. Honest. We were just talking about kissing and I thought—“

“No, not my boundaries,” she clarified, “Your boundaries.”

“My boundaries?” That might have been the craziest thing he had heard all night. It definitely wasn’t his boundaries that had told them to wait. In fact, he had felt very certain about what he had been about to do—what he still wanted to do—until she had stopped him.

He stuttered, trying to make sense out of what was happening, “But… but I want…” he trailed off, searching for the right words. He wanted so much. He wanted everything. He swallowed, eyes searching her face as he repeated, hoping she would understand, “I want.”

Gale brushed her thumbs along his cheekbones soothingly, forcing him to be still and catch up with himself as she patiently explained, “You, sweet cheeks, are under the influences of a faerie’s wine and her wiles. You’re hardly cross eyed, but you are not sober. If we kissed, it would be a lot harder to stop than you realize because of what the faerie wine wants from you, because of what it wants you to want.”

He listened to her in silence, enraptured by her presence. He reveled in everything about her in that moment. She, who could be both strong and gentle. She, who could be so wanting and yet was able to push her own wants aside because she was also caring. He felt inspired by her strength; he could strive to be as strong. He felt motivated by her care; her intentions for him were heartmeltingly noble and it made her interest in him mean so much more. He felt emboldened by her want; she was just as affected by him as he was by her (she had been the one to pull him close, hadn’t she?).

She had been under his skin all week and now he knew what to do about it.

The facts added up in his faerie-addled mind and he felt even more sure than ever before that he had to kiss her. He felt wild, but also like he was in more control in that moment than he had ever been before in his life. “I bet I could stop," he dared, bargained, promised, eyes glinting as he stepped closer to her. His hands found her hips as if he had been searching for them for years. He ducked his head and looked at her, waiting for one sign, one look, one assent, and he would finally (finally) taste those lips.

Gale pressed her hand to Bernard’s mouth, tilting her head forward so closely to his that their foreheads bumped. Her eyes stayed locked with his as she said, firmly but with good spirits, “And, if you still feel this way once you’ve sobered up, we can test that theory. You know where my room is. Just give my door a knock and I’ll eat you up. I’ll ravish you right on the rug in front of the fire place.” She kissed the back of the hand that covered his mouth before pulling away, working on disentangling herself from his arms.

Feeling the absence of the kiss that should have been his, would have been his if her hand hadn’t been in the way, was like a cruel joke. Longing tugged at his heart from the action alone and then to have her pull away from him completely? To just go on as if something cataclysmic hadn’t been so close to happening—as if he didn’t still want it to happen? He felt cold without her near. His hands felt empty. “This isn’t fair,” he pouted, close to stomping his feet like a wronged toddler.

Gale drank deeply from the first cup she grabbed at. She caught her breath, muttering wryly, “Imagine feeling so strongly more or less every day of your life.” She wasn’t facing him but he could see how she shook her head and raked her fingers through her hair.

He crossed his arms over his chest to stop himself from grabbing out at her, the pressure of his arms against himself as a poor man’s replacement for having a faerie in his arms. He forced himself to lean against the counter as he comprehended what she said. It was hard for him to imagine feeling the way he currently felt all day every day in any capacity. He asked in wonder, “Do you, really? How do you get anything done?”

She shrugged, still keeping her back to him as she explained, “It’s all I’ve known. I have a hard time understanding how folks can get anything done without all these pent up feelings to use as fuel.”

The full fic Something in the Air can be found on ao3 at the following link. More moodboards and excerpts can be found on my blog.

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becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 1 year ago

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We had one of Steff's comedian friends staying with us on the weekend, lovely lad called Sam from Singapore. He had never been to Wales before, and he requested that we take him to a Welsh restaurant so he could try Welsh food

That's surprisingly difficult, actually. Like a lot of Welsh culture, our culinary traditions have not exactly been applauded over the years, so you don't really see them. But a lucky Google search revealed a brand new one has just opened in SA1 called the Welsh House, so great! Away we went.

Fuck me, they went all in.

It wasn't just the menu (though fuck me, what a menu - one of their 'for the table to share' options was little mini leek and cheddar Welsh cakes with salted butter and they were paralysingly good). It wasn't just that every alcohol was Welsh, even including the wine (surprisingly good btw, called 'Naturiol'.)

The table centerpieces were daffodils. All signs for the toilets were Welsh only. The walls had photos of Wales, modern and historical; the windows had the fleur de lis; the specials board (pork belly in Welsh cider and damson sauce with honey and wild garlic glazed carrots) had dragons on. I realise this is probably normal for country-themed restaurants, but I've never been to one for Wales before.

But the best bit, see, was the music

I clocked, when we walked in, that they were playing If You Tolerate This Then Your Children Will Be Next by the Manic Street Preachers (you always clock the Manics). Ah, I thought. A Welsh song! In a Welsh restaurant! Ho ho ho.

As they seated us, it became What's New Pussycat. Ah! I thought. Another Welsh song! Fu fu fu.

Then they played Monster by the Automatic and I was like my god are they only playing Welsh music?? That's so cool! What an eclectic mix that's going to be. We should suggest to them they should look into Welsh language music too, really mix it up.

And then they played Anrheoli by Yws Gwynedd and lads, Steff and I lost our shit. We lost our fucking shit. Sam's sitting there, utterly bewildered. The staff are nervously edging away from us. We don't care. It's the first time I have ever heard a Welsh language song played outside of a Welsh language setting. We're so excited.

"They're playing Welsh music!!!" says Steff. "Holy shit!!!"

"Imagine if they played Sebona Fi!" I say, humorously.

"Nah," says Steff. "You can't in a restaurant. There'd be a riot, it's faerie music."

"...what?" says Sam

We explain the cultural phenomenon that is Sebona Fi. The song changes: Primadonna Girl, by Marina and the Diamonds.

"She's Welsh??" says Sam.

"She's from Abergavenny!" we beam.

"I don't know what that means," nods Sam, who is from Singapore.

Next: The Bartender and the Thief, by the Stereophonics. We're in high spirits. The extraordinarily Welsh wine arrives, as does the rarebit on sourdough starter. Sam, a gay man, delightedly orders the faggots and peas.

They play Ben Rhys by Gwilym Bowen Rhys, and we lose our shit again. Sam is now used to this, because comedians are adaptable. "They even have daffodils!" I say, misty eyed. "Is that relevant?" Sam asks, fascinated.

They play Hiraeth, by PLU. Hard to explain that one. Very hard to explain the effect it has when it's played in a restaurant, but Sam looks around the suddenly muted room and whispers "Are we in church?"

"It's about Hiraeth," whispers Steff. "So kind of."

Next: the Masses Against the Classes, by the Manics. Utter tonal whiplash. This playlist is not remotely restaurant appropriate. It's perfect.

"You'd think they'd pick like... a genre," Sam says dreamily. "We just went from church to the barricades."

The faggots arrive. "I forgot it would be a western sized portion," Sam says morosely, of what to me is a normal sized plate of food. He tries one, and brightens.

They play Sebona Fi.

The place erupts.

#I am going back there #going to try the rarebit next time #and the popcorn cockles #WALES!#closed for cleaning on mondays

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pellucid-constellations · 6 months ago

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All Over Again

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: You're drunk. Your mate is trying to get you home. Only problem is—you're really, really drunk.

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: Drinking, absolutely zero attempt to establish a pov on my part

a/n: A cute little drabble because if it all fell is making me a tiny bit sad and I love this trope <3

Main Masterlist ♡

The world spun around you as you let out a delighted laugh, faerie wine pulsing in your veins. This was bliss, and—admittedly—the most fun you’d had in months. The workload you’d been dealt this last year was one for the books.

“Exactly how many drinks did you have?” Feyre asked you, red and green rays lighting up her face in time with the beat inside Rita’s.

“So many,” you yelled back, flinging your arms around her shoulders. “So many and I’m going to have more!”

The High Lady chuckled and swayed with you as you dragged her around the dancefloor.

This was good for you, your friends had decided, a girl’s night where you could let go of all your responsibilities and inhibitions and then sleep for a solid two days afterward. Feyre and Mor had agreed to stay relatively sober to watch over you, but Mor was just as intoxicated as you were at this point.

“Mor!” you screamed, the shout directed fully into Feyre’s ear. She flinched, but you just continued. “Mor, come here! We can all dance together!”

The blonde was pulled into the circle of fae, but very little “dancing” took place. You were far past the level of functional inebriation.

“We should get Azriel,” Feyre shouted over your head, trying to catch the attention of her very distracted friend.

But Mor just laughed and asked, “Who the hell is that?” as she left the pair to join a woman in a dazzling purple dress at the bar.

Feyre bit back a sigh, still feeling patient with the small amount of alcohol running through her. “We should go home, yeah?” she attempted, catching your clutch as it tumbled out of your hands.

You responded with a loud, “Woo!” and Feyre knew she needed to call in reinforcements. A quick outstretch of her mind and the request was sent.

“This is so much fun!” Your smile was infectious, Feyre replicating it unconsciously as she watched you jump around. “I love you!” you screamed at her—again, directly into her ear.

It was a few short minutes before Azriel’s presence was felt inside the overcrowded pleasure hall. Small streams of black shadows had begun to slink around your shoulders and arms with you none the wiser to their arrival. Feyre smirked when you jumped at a hand on your back.

“Hello, my love,” Azriel said, voice low as he bent over to relay the words. “Having fun?”

Your responding screech had panic flashing across the spymaster’s face, the man simply watching as you threw yourself against Feyre’s chest. He sent a tentative hand out in your direction, but you only pressed further into your friend.

“Y/n—” Azriel began.

“I’m married,” you seethed. “I have a mate,” you doubled down.

Azriel blinked.

He looked around him, checking behind his tightly coiled wings and past the broad expanse of his shoulders.

When no other fae appeared to be lurking near his mate, Azriel returned his attention to the pair in front of him, his hazel eyes meeting your piercing (but rather hazy) glare.

“Y/n, I am… well aware that you have a mate,” he replied, shaking his head to match his slow words.

You scoffed, sending Feyre a glance as if to say, “Can you believe this guy?”

“Well, then you should be well aware—” A shaky, misguided finger pointed close to where Azriel was standing “—that I am not interested in you. Got that?”

A smile paired with furrowed brows conveyed the vast array of Azriel’s current feelings. He watched as you sent him another scathing glare and turned back to your High Lady, noticing the uneven way you stood and the handful of your belongings being managed by your friend.

“She’s had a lot to drink,” Feyre emphasized. “I’ve been trying to get her to go home but she won’t budge. I thought you’d be able to persuade her. She’s been talking about you nonstop.”

You were maneuvered into a quieter hallway as Feyre recounted your adventures of the night, making sure to catalog each drink she saw you consume. Azriel fought back a grimace as he pictured you in the morning. You had the worst hangovers.

“Y/n,” Feyre began, offering you an encouraging smile as you blearily blinked at her words. “Azriel’s here. Do you want to see him? He said he’d bring you home with him.”

This time, you gasped, face betraying you as it heated with embarrassment. “You called Azriel here?”

“Mhm, and he said he’s terribly exhausted and needs you to come home for the night.”

You gaped. “He wants me to come home with him?”

Standing at your back, Azriel felt his expression pucker in confusion. Hadn’t you just chastised him for flirting with you, a married woman? A married woman who was married to him?

Feyre seemed to agree with that sentiment as she nodded and said, “Of course he does. He always wants you with him.”

Your eyes grew wide, hands reaching out to grip Feyre’s shoulders in a serious motion. “Did you tell him?” you panicked. “Fey, you promised you wouldn’t tell him. It could ruin everything.”

Azriel was suddenly catapulted back about 20 years to when you were too nervous to tell him you were in love with him and Azriel was too much of an idiot to tell you that you were his mate. But that time had passed, thankfully, long ago. The two of you were now very much in love, both mated and married shortly after the inner circle had meddled in your affairs.

Looking past his disorientation, Azriel caught your wide, pleading gaze directed at Feye.

“Y/n?” he asked, craning his neck to catch your eyes. When you slowly turned in mortification, a soft kind of adoration pulled at his chest. “Hey,” he smiled. “I’m going to take you home, alright?”

“O-Okay,” you blushed, taking his outstretched hand in your own. “To my apartment?”

“No, I thought we’d go to mine. That alright?” he asked, voice gravelly and low and echoing off the long hallway inside Rita’s.

It didn't matter that you were actually going to his house. The one the two of you shared.

Instinctually, Azriel grabbed your hand, twinning his fingers with yours and pulling you closer. You, however, so drunk that you were unsure of your current whereabouts or today's date, let out a shaky breath at the intimacy. Azriel felt your fingers tremble between his own.

“Is this okay?” he found himself asking.

You nodded jerkily, and Azriel relished in the feeling of falling in love with you all over again. It was an immensely better experience than you pushing him away and accusing him of preying on married women.

His married woman, but that was beside the point.

A few steps in silence. You shivered with the rush of cool air outside the pleasure hall. Azriel shifted his wings out, enveloping you in their warmth.

“Um,” you began, fiddling with his fingers as they rested beside yours. “It’s really nice of you to walk me home.”

His heart was going to burst. Seeing you, his mate, so shy and reserved and hopelessly enamored by him in such a public way was endlessly endearing.

“Of course. I would never let you walk home alone,” he replied evenly. And then, to spice things up, he added, “I told you I would always protect you. I meant that.”

“You said th—”

You whipped your head to the side as you spoke, losing your balance with the alcohol coursing through you. Your feet fumbled over each other and Azriel caught your hip to deter you from making a full-on beeline for the ground. After he was sure you were not going to plummet to your death, he tucked your hair back from your face.

“You are my mate,” he said, so assuredly. It was a truth ingrained within him. “I will always walk you home.”

Your eyes went wide, fingers wrapped tightly around his arms as he held you. You held eye contact with your mate, a feat in and of itself with the state of your head, and he watched as your tongue came out to wet your lips.

And then, just because he could—because you were his and because you probably wouldn’t remember this in the morning—he whispered, “I love you.”

The sharp intake of breath that followed his words was apparently too much for your alcohol-addled brain. You let out a small squeak, blinked at him several times, and then, you fainted. Directly into your mate's arms.

Azriel carried you home (the one you two shared, to clarify yet again), silently laughing to himself, feeling quite smug at the outcome that night. 20 years and he still felt the same. 20 years and he was still in disbelief that he got to walk you home.

#azriel x reader #azriel x female!reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fanfic #azriel spymaster #acotar #acotar fanfiction

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seung-mong · 2 months ago

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seung-mong's kinktober 2024!

gulp~ they're right behind me arent they? well... more like on top!

☆BANGCHAN☆

whats your favorite scary movie? - after a mysterious call in the middle of the night threatens to ruin horror movie night with your friends, you cant help shake the feeling that someone's watching your every move. at this point you dont know what's worse: a creepy stalker managing to sneak his way into the house, or how awkward and fidgety chan's been all evening!

includes: ghostface!bangchan x fem!reader, stalking, choking, slight knife play, blood kink, +more!

☆LEEKNOW☆

and so the lion fell in love with the lamb - after moving to romania against your parents' wishes to live a peaceful life with your dying grandfather, your dreams are plagued with visions of pale, almost shimmering skin, droplets of crimson red blood with the taste of the sweetest wine, and sharp fangs that make you sweat in your sleep. your grandfather can only urge you to pray, despite the growing dread in the pit of his stomach at the sight of the bruises that linger on your skin. not to mention the puncture wounds right by the side of your neck!

includes: vampire!leeknow x inexperienced fem!reader, stalking, religious themes, marking, +more!

☆CHANGBIN☆

not all monsters do monstrous things - changbin's been acting different lately, and you're hesitant to talk to him about it. after the accident that left him bloodied and bruised, the last thing you want to do is bring up how he's become so distant lately, passing up on opportunities to hang out, refusing your physical affection, ditching you for the new group of friends that seemed to appear out of thin air. but when he stands you up on your birthday dinner on Halloween, you know he's crossed the line!

includes: werewolf!changbin x fem!reader, childhood best friends trope, depictions of gore and violence, size kink, manhandling, strength kink, + more!

☆HYUNJIN☆

its amazing, the love inside, you take it with you - finally, a space of your own! a safe space for you to practice your spells without accidentally setting your mom's heirlooms on fire. a safe space for you to brew your potions without your mom complaining about the smell and how you're doing it wrong (you've figured). a safe space for you to chat with your cat companion, milo, without your mother rolling her eyes. a safe space... with an awkward, clumsy, GOSSIP of a soul with unfinished business!

includes: ghost!hyunjin x witch fem!reader, voyeurism, pervy hyunjin, subby hyunjin, femdom raahhh, overstimulation, dacryphila, +more!

☆HAN☆

you could be happy here, i could take care of you. i wouldn't let anybody hurt you. we could grow up together! - han thinks hes seeing things. he usually enjoys camping by himself, but when a bright light and a high pitched noise makes his head throb and his nose bleed, he genuinely thinks he could die. now he REALLY thinks hes seeing things because.. is that someone falling from the sky? after deciding to sleep on it, he meets you. and uh, oh yea. he's definitely seeing things!

includes: loser nerd!han x alien fem!reader, subby hanji, han jisung is a SIMP LOSER, bondage, use of some kind of aphrodisiac, choking, +more!

☆FELIX☆

absence makes the heart grow fonder…or forgetful - never being one to believe in fairytales, you were the only one in your village brave enough to explore the thick woods across the train tracks just south of your home. finally, a place where you can think in silence, with no one to disrupt your writing. when the creatures of the forest begin to make themselves known to you, you ignore all the signs telling you to run. especially when the so-called evil trickster fairy is the most beautiful boy you've seen in your life!

includes: faery!felix x fem!reader, kinda inexperienced felix, lowkey corruption kink (litrally if u squint), felix has wings (that r sensitive), overstim, +more!

☆SEUNGMIN☆

this is true love- do you think this happens everyday? - seungmin is too young for this, he thinks. the youngest prince to take the crown in centuries, and the war between his kingdom and the kingdom of the forest is intensifying. his people are going missing, and he has no idea what to do. it does not help that the king of the forest scares him shitless. he turns to you for help, the last witch of your line- you can thank his family for that!

includes: prince!seungmin x witch fem!reader, kinda enemies to lovers (the trope belongs to him i fear), hatefucking, biting, bondage, +more!

☆JEONGIN☆

we all go a little mad sometimes. haven't you? - you really should have filled up your gas tank. your car breaks down in the middle of nowhere, and the storm outside only further dampens your spirits. its dark and empty for miles, besides the little light that flickers on the side of the road. you brave the journey on foot, shivering, and soaking wet. your heart drops when you see the shelter, old and run down. thank god the young gentleman inside is kind enough to offer you a bed for the night!

includes: serial killer!jeongin x fem!reader, primal play, fear play, choking, knife play, jeongin is really rouch, +more!

☆INTERLUDES☆

got a horror concept for a fic? dont be shy and request! (submissions open until september 20)

wanna get tagged? (specify the kinktober special!)

#skz #skz smut #skz fanfic #stray kids #stray kids x reader #bangchan x reader #leeknow x reader #changbin x reader #hyunjin x reader #han jisung x reader #felix x reader #seungmin x reader #jeongin x reader #skz kinktober #kinktober #seung mong!#seung mong kinktober!

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steveslevis · 6 months ago

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i love you, it’s ruining my life

azriel x cassian's sister!reader - part 2 of 3

summary: Rhysand sends you on the mission to Windhaven alone, and things do not go as planned.

warnings: mentions of violence/blood, poison, mentions of previous assault and past trauma, Azriel being oblivious and upset again

word count: 5.5k

Windhaven, the place you once called home.

Now the place you avoided at all costs, the place where you lived through your worst nightmares and recollected them every single night while trying to sleep in the hell hole of a cabin you were going to be staying in for the night.

You tried your hardest to forget about the night that would haunt you for the rest of eternity, tried to will it from your memory, tried to put up an obsidian wall around it to lock it in.

But there was no forgetting what happened to you, not now, not ever. There was no trusting a male fully ever again, all thanks to the Illyrian customs.

Cillian was the first and last male you ever trusted. He gained your trust, made you fall in love with him, then ripped you to shreds, mentally and physically. The only male you ever trusted was the same one who lured you into that wretched cabin alone and held you down with a knife.

I love you, he had whispered in your ear all those years ago while pinning you to the floor, your wings spread as the knife pressed against one of the central tendons, I just have to do this so everyone knows you’re mine. So you can be a normal Illyrian female.

He was mere centimeters from clipping your wings when Rhysand heard your silent cries, busting into the cabin, making the wicked male scramble away in fear of what might happen to him.

You knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep at all during your stay in the camp, but it was probably better that way. That way you could stay on guard all night, that way you could watch your own back. You had to prove to Rhysand and the rest of the Inner Circle that you could be treated like a grown female, that you were willing to do anything for the Night court.

There wasn’t much time when you arrived at the cabin, you had to set your bag inside and leave almost immediately, heading towards Lord Devlon’s hall for dinner.

As much as Devlon hated your brother, he had nothing but respect for you. That might be partially due to the threats you’d set into his mind a few hundred years ago, or the fact that you’d beat him during training multiple times, but the reason didn’t matter. It was more beneficial for you to be the one to show your face in Windhaven this time around and you knew that, regardless of how much it made your stomach turn. It was important that someone from the Inner Circle came to Windhaven every once in a while under the guise of making sure the camp was still in order, so this was the perfect opportunity to gain important insight as well.

So you sat at the long table for dinner, chatting with those around you in the most civil tone that you could. You couldn’t bear to eat in all honesty, just the thought of having to stay in the cursed cabin for even eight hours for sleep was enough to make you lose all appetite. So, you opted for pushing around some potatoes and meat on your plate all while chugging down four glasses of faerie wine throughout the two hours you were there.

You coincidentally sat to the right of Cormac during the meal, who had Balvard sitting on the left of him, making it almost too easy for you to infiltrate their minds and figure out their foolish plan. The two of them were under the impression that they would be able to take out Devlon with a faebane dagger and control the camps with ease. It made you scoff to yourself when you discovered that neither of them had a backup plan, as if that was going to work out so smoothly for them.

The remainder of dinner after finding out the information you needed consisted of you bantering with some of the Illyrians you had grown up next to, ones who had turned into great warriors through training at Windhaven. The sun had been set for hours by the time you made your way back to the cabin, setting up some wards as you stepped over the threshold.

Exhaustion hit you almost immediately upon changing into your sleep clothes, eyelids heavy as you relaxed onto your side in the large bed next to the fire you’d just lit. You’d assumed you would be wired at this point, you’d planned on not sleeping at all due to the fear instilled deep in your bones.

You cuddled into the blankets, the familiar scent of your old home giving you an eerily comforted feeling passing through your gut. Solace filled you once you threw up a final shield around the small cabin, setting you at ease to know nobody could come in unless you let them in.

Before you knew it, you were fast asleep on the bed.

You awoke a few hours later, disturbed by the noise of the front door swinging open. Your body felt paralyzed in the moment, lethargy taking you over as you slowly turned your head towards the noise. It felt like everything was moving in slow motion as you watched the two males stalk through the door, unable to react in any way as your eyes trailed up to see Cormac and Balvard stepping over the threshold. The smirks on their faces told you everything you needed to know about what was about to happen.

You wracked your brain for how this could’ve happened, how you were immobilized by these two lowly, evil men in front of you, how you fell into their trap so easily, and how the hell you were completely unable to use any power or energy in this moment.

Faebane.

How could you be so foolish? You should’ve known better than to drink the wine so freely at a table of men you barely knew, especially after infiltrating Cormac and Balvard’s minds and discovering they wanted to use the same fucking poison on Devlon.

“Stupid female.” Balvard spat at you as Cormac inched closer to you, hand reaching out for your ankle. “You really thought you could come here, infiltrate our fucking minds to find out our plans, and just get away with it?”

You couldn’t speak, it was like someone was pressing down on your throat as you tried to breathe, there had been some gloriella in your wine, too, you were sure of it. Your body was pulled from the bed and flipped over in one swift tug, you were thrown onto the floor in an instant.

Images of Cillian flashed through your mind as your helpless form was pushed onto the floor, images of his wicked grin that matched the ones both of the males in front of you were wearing currently.

A silent tear slid down your cheek as Balvard spoke, but you couldn’t hear his words. He was still rambling on about how stupid of a female you were, and how you deserved nothing but pain after what you were planning to do to them, but you tried your hardest to drown them out.

There was nothing you could do at this point, as Balvard held your legs down, as Cormac pinned your wings with one large hand while the other pulled a sizable knife from its sheath. There was nothing you could do but close your eyes and hope that it would be over soon.

You had never felt this helpless before, not even when Cillian had pinned you down. At least then you were able to fight back, at least then you had a shred of dignity and pride left, at least then you hadn’t been so foolish as to let someone fucking poison you.

You cursed yourself internally as you squeezed your eyes shut, pain rippling through your body at the first slash of the knife against your wing. The first cut was against the base of your right wing, a long slash that would take months to heal, if it ever did.

A prayer to the Gods repeated itself in your mind as you felt the blood trickle from your wing and onto your back. Your heart ached as the silent tears flowed, wandering to the furthest corners of your mind as you tried to think of anything aside from the pain that was being inflicted upon you. It took everything in you to realize that you had a sliver of power still running through your veins, just enough to call out to your daemati brother, Rhys.

As you shot a quick thought down the bridge of Rhysand’s mind, you were met with a welcoming talon of power. You could feel his concern as you pushed one-worded thoughts to him to get his attention.

Everything alright, sister? He questioned through your mind, urging you to let him see what you’d experienced in the last twelve hours with a kind caress of his power in your mind.

You only had enough power to cry out silently to him, Send help, please. Your mind was closed to him as quickly as it had opened, everything went dark on your end as your energy ran out and you were blinded with even more pain, throwing you quickly into unconsciousness.

The next thing you remembered was waking up to the sound of wailing and begging from behind you, the two men who had you pinned down minutes before were thrown against the wall as their High Lord took pleasure in tearing them to shreds in a slow and painful death. The cries came to a sudden halt moments later, Rhys growing tired of their begging as he decided to shatter their minds and put you out of your misery as quickly as possible.

“R–Rhys–” you sob once their cries stopped, unable to do anything aside from lift a weak finger to point towards the man in the doorframe.

The High Lord’s gaze turns from one of pure rage to one of a worried friend once his violet eyes flick toward where you lay in the middle of the cabin. He takes in the sight in front of him slowly, your pained expression and tear-stained cheeks There’s blood pooled around your midsection, drenching your sleep shirt as you pant in pain on the dusty wooden floor. One of your wings looks fractured in multiple spots, while the other one is mangled from the beginnings of a mutilation.

The sight made Rhysand shudder with anger, fists tight at his sides as he slipped into your mind in order to understand the extent of the situation you found yourself in. You let him in without resistance, unable to hold any kind of mental shield up anymore.

They were going to clip your wings, take away the one thing you had to remind you of your mother, take away the one thing you held so dearly, take away your ability to fly. They were going to make you into the ideal complicit Illyrian female before wiping your memory of the entire night, which he assumed from the extremely prohibited memory tonic rolling on the floor next to you.

Rhys was glad he’d shattered the two traitors inside and out once your memories were collected, realizing how ruthless they had been with you moments before he stormed in.

“D–Don’t tell Cassian.” you plead, eyes focused on Rhys as he took another step into the cabin.

Your pleas took Rhys back to that fateful night all those years ago, the night he found you in this same room, sobbing in the middle of the room after being defiled by another Illyrian male who he nearly ripped to ribbons in the same exact spot where Cormac and Balvard laid in the corner, the male who fled from Windhaven the next morning, likely from threats from Rhysand himself.

Four hundred and fifty years ago was when he vowed to protect you like his own sister. You had begged him that night not to tell Cassian about what he’d seen, the vulnerable state the situation had left you in. The two of you had even made a bargain that night, that he would never be able to reveal the truth about what happened, so long as you remained loyal to him and his family, which he knew you would do regardless.

Four hundred and fifty years ago he promised to be the one to look out for you and make sure you were protected in situations you knew your brother’s unadulterated rage couldn’t handle.

And now, four hundred and fifty years after that fateful day, he’d failed you.

Rhys gave you a sympathetic look, opening his mouth to speak in response to your request, but was interrupted by your brother pushing through the doorway past him. Cassian nearly tripped over his own two feet at the sight of you, stomach churning when he saw your mangled wings slumped on the wood over your limp body.

“Don’t look, Cass.” you beg your brother as he stares at you with wide eyes, knowing the sight will spin him into a fit of rage. In your dazed state, you could see him beginning to seethe at the possibilities of what could’ve happened to you, his breaths quickening at the thought.

Before Cassian can reply, Rhys slips into his mind. She needs her brother right now, not the Lord of Bloodshed ready to avenge her. Let’s get her back to the house before you make any rash decisions, we can come back and rip whoever else deserves it to shreds once she’s safe.

Cassian chokes on a breath as Rhysand tries to reassure him that you’ll be alright. It takes everything in him to compose himself, but he does it for you, his twin, his fiery sister who he’d take an ash arrow to the heart for.

“I can’t—can’t feel—“ you choke out, squirming and groaning in pain as Cassian picks you up from the floor. “My w—wings. I can’t feel them. Did they—they take them away?”

Your pained words strike Cassian like a dagger to the heart, tears welling up as he thinks about how much pain you had to be in.

“No, I promise. They didn’t take them away. They’re–they’re still there, Y/N. It—It’ll be okay,” your brother says in a stern tone as he chokes back his own tears, eyes wide as he watches you struggle in his arms while walking through the cabin’s front door. “Everything’s gonna be okay.”

It sounded almost like he was trying to convince himself that it would all be okay as he shot into the sky with you curled up in his arms.

You were in and out of consciousness the entirety of the flight back to the House of Wind, babbling nonsense as Cassian tried to keep you stable in his arms.

The entire Inner Circle was already at the house when Cassian landed, an air of worry carrying through the group as they saw the state of you, more specifically the state of your wings.

Rhysand immediately called for Madja upon seeing the extent of your injuries, and ordered Cassian to take you to your room and to keep you awake until she arrived.

Cassian was up the stairs in a flash, Feyre and Mor on his heels as he rushed to your room, with Azriel quietly following behind them. He laid you on your side, your bloodied wings spread across the bed as you curled up near the edge of the large bed. Your eyes landed on Feyre as he stepped away, a dazed smile spreading across your lips as you reached out a hand for her.

The High Lady gives you a small smile in return, but it doesn’t reach her eyes, which were filled with worry. She grabs your hand, squeezing it gently as she begins to tell you something that you really can’t comprehend over the ringing in your ears.

After a while of her speaking to you and you babbling nonsense in return, you try to sit up abruptly. Both Cassian and Feyre are on you in an instant, pushing you gently back onto your side, quickly telling you that you need to lay down and stay there.

“What is it?” Feyre asks quickly, gripping your hand as you easily give up and fall onto the bed, “Is something wrong, do you need something?”

“Az…” you whimper, fighting the urge to fall asleep right then and there, “W—Where’s Azriel?”

The shadowsinger had been outside the door keeping watch, but his shadows had been listening in on the conversation within as well. The shadows curled around his ear, whispering your name to him, telling him that you requested him, so he silently strode in when he heard. Your tired eyes lit up at the sight of him in the doorway, hand slipping from Feyre’s to weakly beckon him over to you.

Something about seeing you in this state tugged on his heart, tugged on it so much it felt like it was going to rip from his chest. He couldn’t deny your request for him to come closer, not when you looked so desperate and in so much pain, not when his absence in Windhaven was part of the reason you were in this situation in the first place.

He made a mental note to ask Rhys who did this to you as he made his way over to the chair Feyre left for him to sit in, wanting nothing more than to show them what Truth Teller could do.

Azriel’s hand fell next to you on the bed and you immediately rested your own atop his, grinning widely as what felt like delusion set into your bones. Shadows twined around your fingers while the others skittered across your wings as if to soothe them.

“They may—may not be able to save my wings, Az.” you choked out, a bitter giggle coming out as you spoke.

“I’m sure Madja will be able to heal you right up, Y/N. You’ll be better in no time.” Azriel assured you, but he wasn’t sure that was entirely true. “She’ll be here any minute.”

“I—I don’t even care. I just—just need my mate.” you say abruptly while shaking your head, voice barely above a whisper now as you stare at the male, glassy eyes meeting his sharp yet confused gaze.

“Mate?” he replies with a furrowed brow, lips drawing into a frown at your words. He was wondering if you even knew what you were saying at this point, if you were just saying whatever came to your disoriented mind.

“Mate.” you say a little louder this time and the whole room is silent as you reach out for Azriel, your shaky and blood-crusted hand coming up to stroke his cheek. “My mate.”

Your eyes fluttered close with those words, a smile on your lips as you’re overtaken by sleep in the moment. Your hand falls from Azriel’s cheek and onto his lap, and that’s when he feels it. That’s when he feels the shadows of his mind clearing, bringing that band of golden thread to the forefront. A band of golden thread that was tying his soul to yours.

Before Azriel could process the situation unfolding in front of him, Cassian was pulling him from the chair so Feyre could tend to you once more. The High Lady tried to wake you, but nothing worked. Thankfully, Rhysand and Madja rushed into the room mere minutes after you became unconscious, immediately going to work on getting you back to consciousness and ready to be healed.

Cassian tugged at Azriel’s shoulders as the whirlwind began, trying to drag him into the hallway. The shadowsinger resisted, standing behind Feyre as he watched you closely. You awoke immediately when Madja began to tend to your bloodied wings, the sensitive membrane torn to shreds. A cry escaped your lips as she gently worked on them, as Feyre tried her best to keep you in one spot while Madja worked her magic.

Azriel watched with wide eyes, rage rippling through his body as he watched you writhe in pain. He wanted nothing more than to take away your pain, to make sure nobody ever hurt you again, to keep you safe with him forever.

Your brother continued to try to move Azriel from the room, knowing it wouldn’t end well if he continued to watch you writhe in pain as Madja made quick work of healing you. He continued to resist, shoving Cassian multiple times before Rhysand breached his mind, stopping him in his tracks.

I’ll make sure she’s okay. He spoke to Azriel in his mind, staring him down as he squeezed your hand, beginning to take away your pain. She’s safe with me and I’ll take away whatever pain I can, but we need you to leave before you do anything stupid. The bond is too new and who knows what you’ll do if you continue to see her like this.

Azriel straightened against Cassian’s grip, nodding at Rhys as he silently assured him that you would be okay. Eventually, he let your brother guide him into the hallway, noting the glamour Rhysand had added to the bedroom to drown out your cries as Cassian closed the door.

It isn’t until he steps into the hallway that he’s finally able to fully comprehend what just happened. That’s when guilt and fear and pain wash over his body, stinging his chest all at once, right down the bond.

“This–It’s my fault.” he says, falling back against the wall opposite to your bedroom in the hall, his legs unable to hold him up anymore. “I–I could’ve fucking stopped this, I should’ve been there, I should’ve known that this would happen–”

“Woah, Az.” Cassian interjects, reaching for Azriel’s shoulders once again. “You and I both know how stubborn she is. She would’ve refused to go if you were going, and you know it. She thought she had to prove herself to Rhys, just like she always does.”

“I should’ve just–Fuck!” Azriel yelled, shoving his hands into his hair to tug on it roughly out of frustration, “I should’ve fucking sent my shadows, I could’ve seen their plan, I–”

“Azriel.” Cassian interrupted once again, grabbing the shadowsinger to get his attention. “Would you shut up for one second? She would’ve torn those shadows–and you–to shreds if you did that. She’s still under the impression that you fucking hate her, Az.”

Azriel let out a shuddering breath at the thought, a whirlwind of emotions taking over. His mind was racing as he thought of you in the next room, how his shadows couldn’t even infiltrate Rhysand’s glamour to see if you were alright. None of it made sense, you deserved more than him, you should be with someone who actually could keep you safe.

“How long have you known?” Azriel pressed, stern gaze on Cassian as he finally let go of his shoulders.

“Az–”

“How. Fucking. Long.” he insisted, blue siphons flaring with power at his wrists as he reached for your brother.

Cassian sighs, shoulders sagging in defeat as he looks to the helpless man in front of him. “Two–Two years.” he’s quiet as he speaks, voice wavering in fear of what anger the fresh mating bond could bring out of his brother.

“You’ve known for two fucking years?” Azriel seethes, gripping Cassian’s leathers tighter as he growls, “how fucking dare you–”

“I couldn’t tell you and you know it, Az.” Cassian says, releasing himself from Azriel’s grip.

“You’re my brother–”

“And she’s my twin, my real fucking blood sister. I couldn’t betray her like that.” he interjected, shaking his head at the shadowsinger. “She would’ve torn me to shreds, then came for you next. You should know that nobody should interfere with a mating bond, you had to find out from her.”

Azriel took a deep and shaky breath at his words, knowing that Cassian was right in every sense of the word to not tell him for all this time. Eventually he nods at Cassian, deciding that words probably aren’t his strong suit at this moment, he didn’t want to say or do anything he’d regret later.

“C’mon, we should go somewhere else to get your mind–”

“No.” Azriel snarled, shaking his head firmly as his shadows swirled at his shoulders, siphons flaring with that ultramarine power once again. “I need to stay here, to see that she’s safe.”

There was something damn near animalistic in Azriel’s eyes as Cassian gazed at him. In that moment, he knew there would be no getting through to the shadowsinger, not when his mate was on the brink of death on the other side of the door.

Cassian nodded slowly at him, watching carefully as Azriel finally let go of his shoulders. The shadowsinger’s own shoulders sagged and he leaned to rest on the wall behind him, while trying to calm himself. He needed to be in that room, needed to see you, needed to hold you, but he knew there was no use in trying. Not even his shadows could slip under the door to check on you, Rhysand had glamoured the whole room to high hell in order to keep him out and to keep your healing as uninterrupted as possible.

He knew it would take hours, maybe even days before that door opened again, but he didn’t care. He’d stay right there waiting for that lock to click and that glamour to fall just so he could see you again.

And so wait he did.

He waited one hour, which turned into two, which turned into four, which turned into eight.

The wait was so long that Cassian eventually pulled two chairs out of his bedroom so they could sit, and the House nearly forced them to eat some stew that was placed upon the empty chair Azriel refused to occupy.

He only paced, mind racing with thoughts of you, of how he couldn’t feel you any time he tried to tug on the bond. He wasn’t sure how the mating bond worked, how much a glamour could mask it or how your unconsciousness would affect it. Every time he tugged on that golden strand in his chest, he felt nothing on the other end, just resistance that he could only assume was from the inability to fully reach you.

Each unsuccessful tug only drove him closer to insanity, closer to clawing down the door between the two of you to see if Rhysand was truly the reason he wasn’t able to reach you or not.

Just as Azriel was on the verge of another outrage, after waiting for nearly ten godsdamned hours, your bedroom door’s lock clicked. Both Cassian and Azriel’s attention whirled to the door, only to see Feyre standing at the door frame. The door was barely cracked, just enough to see her face, hiding the commotion behind her, hiding the sight of you behind her.

The moment the door opened, a wave of nausea flowed through Azriel’s stomach, the smell of you, the smell of your blood reaching his nose immediately.

The High Lady held out a hand as Azriel took a step towards the door, ready to push her over to finally see his mate.

“She’s waking up now,” Feyre interjects, giving the shadowsinger a stern look that tells him to behave, “she might be really confused right now, she’s been in and out of consciousness for a while so who knows what she really remembers. Be gentle with her, she may not remember what she said before you left.”

Azriel stands up straighter at the High Lady’s words, nodding sternly at her command as Cassian stands at his side finally. Both take a moment to compose themselves while she pulls the door open, revealing the room behind her at last.

The room is in much less of a disarray than they’d expected, likely thanks to a simple snap of Rhysand’s fingers. The only blood to be seen in the room is on your wings, which is currently being wiped away by Madja as you stir slowly.

It takes everything in Azriel not to run up to your side right then, to push Mor from the chair next to you, to take your head into his hands and kiss you and never let you go. But he holds back, waiting for you to finally wake from your sleep.

Your eyes flutter open a few moments later, a wave of confusion washing over you as you do. The last thing you really remember is being picked up by Cassian, off the floor of that Gods forsaken cabin. You really don’t remember how or when you made it back to the House of Wind, or what actually happened to you. At this point, judging by the shooting pain in your back, you weren’t sure if you wanted to remember what happened to you.

Your brother’s name was the first thing to fall from your lips, your weak hand reaching out for him with a watery smile. Tears filled your eyes as he took a step toward you.

“You’re a stubborn little shit, you know that?” Cassian said with a bittersweet smile, eyes flickering between your bruised face and your tattered wings.

“Gotta keep you on your toes all the time,” you rasp out, a small laugh from you finally filling the tense air.

Cassian sat next to you, talking to you lowly as he tried to keep things light, tried to keep your spirits up after he caught a glance of how mangled your wings were, how ruined they might be.

You barely noticed the shadowsinger standing behind him until a shadow skittered across your stomach, trailing to your bandaged wings to survey the damage. It wasn’t until then that you stopped to look at him, to see how stoic he looked while staring at you. His face paled, his jaw clenched as he stood silently at the foot of the bed.

“Are you here to mock me, shadowsinger?” your voice interrupted his thoughts, finally making him look up to meet your eyes.

Azriel’s brow furrowed at your words and Cassian tensed at your side. He only shook his head, an apologetic look crossing his face as he opened his mouth to speak, only to be cut off by you.

“If you’re here to tell me how I should’ve just sucked it up and gone with you, how I’m only a weak female and I can’t handle missions like this, I don’t want to hear it.”

Oh. Oh, no.

Realization struck Azriel in an instant, you didn’t remember anything about what you’d said to him. He tried to tug on the bond, a sympathetic look in his eyes as his heart lurched for you, but felt nothing.

The pain tonics, they mess with the bond. She cannot feel you, brother, Rhysand said to him wordlessly, watching quietly from the other side of the room, she does not know that you’re reaching out to her, she doesn’t know that you know.

Azriel felt like he was going to vomit, he couldn’t handle it anymore. He couldn’t go another minute without you knowing that he knew. But he knew better, he knew better than to throw this on you while healing from something so severe. So he looked at you once more with a calm and stoic expression, into your fiery eyes, knowing you were putting on a show of hatred just for him.

“I wasn’t going to mock you, Y/N.” Azriel said matter-of-factly, shaking his head at the thought, “I was only going to tell you that I hope you feel better soon, and that I am sorry, for everything.”

Your stern gaze wavers for a moment, confusion crossing your once stern face at his last words. Before you could retort, he was rushing out the door, leaving one shadow behind to keep watch over you.

He thought you needed space, that you needed this time away from him to heal fully before he threw his heart at you, before he confessed how in love he’d been with you for so damn long.

So he left. Left the House of Wind immediately, deciding that you were better off without him for now.

But he missed the tear that slipped from your eye once he fled the room. He missed the way you were tugging against the bond as well, the golden strand too clouded by the tonics and poisons running through your veins to reach either side.

He missed the way you let out a small sob at his absence, fully recoiling into yourself as you thought that the only male you wanted couldn’t stand to be with you for more than two seconds.

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greenwitchcrafts · 2 months ago

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September 2024 Witch Guide

New Moon: September 2nd

First Quarter: September 11th

Full moon: September 17th

Last Quarter: September 24th

Sabbats: Mabon- September 22nd

September Harvest Moon

Also known as: Autumn Moon, Child Moon, Corn Harvest Moon, Falling Leaves Moon, Haligmonath, Leaves Turning Moon, Mating Moon, Moon of Brown Leaves, Moon When Dear Paw the Earth, Rutting Moon, Singing Moon, Wine Moon, Witumanoth & Yellow Leaf Moon

Element: Earth

Zodiac: Virgo & Libra

Nature spirts: Trooping Faeries

Deities: Brigid, Ceres, Chang-e, Demeter, Freya, Isis, Depths & Vesta

Animals: Jackal & snake

Birds: Ibis & sparrow

Trees: Bay, hawthorn, hazel & larch

Herbs: Copal, fennel, rye, skullcap, valerian, wheat & witch hazel

Flowers: Lily & narcissus

Scents: Bergamot, gardenia, mastic & storax

Stones: Bloodstone,carnelian, cat's eye, chrysolite, citrine, iolite, lapis lazuli, olivine, peridot, sapphire, spinel(blue), tourmaline(blue) & zircon

Colors: Browns, dark blue, Earth tones, green & yellow

Issues, intentions & powers: Confidence, the home, manifestation & protection

Energy: Balance of light & dark, cleaning & straightening of all kinds, dietary matters, employment, health, intellectual pursuits, prosperity, psychism, rest, spirituality, success & work environment

The full Moon that happens nearest to the fall equinox (September 22nd or 23rd) always takes on the name “Harvest Moon.” Unlike other full Moons, this full Moon rises at nearly the same time—around sunset—for several evenings in a row, giving farmers several extra evenings of moonlight & allowing them to finish their harvests before the frosts of fall arrive.

• While September’s full Moon is usually known as the Harvest Moon, if October’s full Moon happens to occur closer to the equinox than September’s, it takes on the name “Harvest Moon” instead. In this case, September’s full Moon would be referred to as the Corn Moon.

This time of year—late summer into early fall—corresponds with the time of harvesting corn in much of the northern United States. For this reason, a number of Native American peoples traditionally used some variation of the name “Corn Moon” to refer to the Moon of either August or September.

Mabon

Known as: Autumn Equinox, Cornucopia, Witch's Thanksgiving & Alban Elved

Season: Autumn

Element: Air

Symbols: Acorns, apples, autumn leaves, balance, berries, corn, cornucopia( Horn of Plenty), dried seeds, equality, gourds, grains, grapes, ivy, pine cones, pomegranates, vines, wheat, white roses & wine

Colors: Blue, brown, dark red, deep gold, gold, indigo, leaf green, maroon, orange, red, russet. Violet & yellow

Oils/Incense: Apple, apple blossom, benzoin, black pepper, hay/straw, myrrh, passion flower, patchouli, pine, red poppy & sage

Animals: Dog & Wolf

Birds: Goose, hawk, swallow & swan

Stones: Agate, amethyst, carnelian, lapis lazuli, sapphire, yellow Agate & yellow topaz

Food: Apples, blackberries, blackberry wine, breads, carrots, cider, corn, cornbread, grapes, heather wine, nuts, onions, pomegranates, potatoes, squash, vegetables, wheat & wine

Herbs/Plants: Benzoin, bramble, corn, ferns, grains, hops, ivy, milkweed, myrrh, sage sassafras, Salomon's seal, thistle, tobacco & wheat

Flowers: Aster, heather, honeysuckle, marigold, mums, passion flower, rose

Trees: Aspen, cedar, cypress, hazel, locust, maple, myrtle oak & pine

Goddesses: Danu, Epona, Inanna, Ishtar, Modron, Morgan, The Morrigan, Muses, Pomona, Persephone, Sin, Sophia & Sura

Gods: Bacchus, Dionysus, Dumuzi, Esus, The Green Man, Hermes, Mannanan, Thor & Thoth

Issues, Intentions & Powers: Accomplishment, agriculture, balance, goals, gratitude & grounding

Spellwork: Balance, harmony, protection, prosperity, security & self-confidence

Activities:

•Scatter offerings in a harvested fields & Offer libations to trees

• Decorate your home and/or altar space for fall

• Bake bread

• Perform a ritual to restore balance and harmony to your life

• Cleanse your home of negative energies

• Pick apples

• Collect fall themed things from nature like acorns, changing leaves, pine cones, ect)

• Have a dinner or feast with your family and/or friends

• Set intentions for the upcoming year

• Purge what is no longer serving you & commit to healthy changes

•Take a walk in the woods

• Enjoy a pumpkin spice latte

• Donate to your local food bank

• Gather dried herbs, plants, seeds & pods

• Learn something new

• Make wine

• Fill a cornucopia

• Brew an apple cinnamon simmer pot

• Create an outdoor Mabon altar

•Adorn burial sites with leaves, acorns, & pinecones to honor those who have passed over & visit their graves

The name Mabon comes from the Welsh/Brythonic God Mabon Ap Modron, who's name means "Divine/great Son", However,there is evidence that the name was adopted in the 1970s for the Autumn Equinox & has nothing to do with this celebration or this time of year.

• Though many cultures see the second harvest (after the first harvest Lughnasadh) & Equinox as a time for giving thanks before the name Mabon was given because this time of year is traditionally when farmers know how well their summer crops did & how well fed their animals have become. This determines whether you & your family would have enough food for the winter.That is why people used to give thanks around this time, thanks for their crops, animals & food

Some believe it celebrates the autumn equinox when Nature is preparing for the winter months. Night & day are of equal legth & the God's energy & strength are nearly gone. The Goddess begins to mourn the loss she knows is coming, but knows he will return when he is reborn at Yule.

Related festivals:

• Sukkot- Is a Torah-commanded holiday celebrated for seven days, beginning on the 15th day of the month of Tishrei. It is one of the Three Pilgrimage Festivals on which Israelites were commanded to make a pilgrimage to the Temple in Jerusalem. Originally a harvest festival celebrating the autumn harvest, Sukkot’s modern observance is characterized by festive meals in a sukkah, a temporary wood-covered hut, celebrating the Exodus from Egypt.

• Mid-Autumn festival- September 17th

Is also known as the Moon Festival or Mooncake Festival. It is a traditional festival celebrated in Chinese culture, similar holidays are celebrated by other cultures in East & Southeast Asia. It is one of the most important holidays in Chinese culture; its popularity is on par with that of Chinese New Year. The history of the Mid-Autumn Festival dates back over 3,000 years. On this day, it is believed that the Moon is at its brightest and fullest size, coinciding with harvest time in the middle of Autumn.

During the festival, lanterns of all size and shapes – which symbolize beacons that light people's path to prosperity & good fortune – are carried & displayed. Mooncakes, a rich pastry typically filled with sweet-bean, egg yolk, meat or lotus-seed paste, are traditionally eaten during this festival. The Mid-Autumn Festival is based on the legend of Chang'e, the Moon goddess in Chinese mythology.

• Thanksgiving- This is a secular holiday which is similar to the cell of Mabon; A day to give thanks for the food & blessings of the previous year. The American Thanksgiving is the last Thursday of November while the Canadian Thanksgiving is celebrated in October

• The Oschophoria- Were a set of ancient Greek festival rites held in Athens during the month Pyanepsion (autumn) in honor of Dionysus. The festival may have had both agricultural and initiatory functions.

-Amidst much singing of special songs, two young men dressed in women's clothes would bear branches with grape-clusters attached from Dionysus to the sanctuary of Athena Skiras & a footrace followed in which select ephebes competed.

Ancient sources connect the festival and its rituals to the Athenian hero-king Theseus & specifically to his return from his Cretan adventure. According to that myth, the Cretan princess Ariadne, whom Theseus had abandoned on the island of Naxos while voyaging home, was rescued by an admiring Dionysus; thus the Oschophoria may have honored Ariadne as well. A section of the ancient calendar frieze incorporated into the Byzantine Panagia Gorgoepikoos church in Athens, corresponding to the month Pyanopsion (alternate spelling), has been identified as an illustration of this festival's procession.

Sources:

Farmersalmanac .com

Llewellyn's Complete Book of Correspondences by Sandra Kines

Wikipedia

A Witch's Book of Correspondences by Viktorija Briggs

Encyclopedia britannica

Llewellyn 2024 magical almanac Practical magic for everyday living

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